Thoughts on the real artist.

He works in a small town, as a mechanic,  and decides he’s got a voice and wants to be an artist. Things the kid wants to do, things the kid wants to say. Most nights he drinks to stop him thinking and hopes to sleep but can never quite get there. Some voice, some emotional turmoil, something wrong with the way things are. A distant hum in the ether of reality, a curve in the emotional space time. A door to be unlocked and the key is somewhere out there. Just needs to be found. Friends laugh, family don’t agree. Hey, what about your job, another recession coming. Gotta get that house, build on that site, settle down with that nice girl. S’all the same, no matter where you go. Gotta do that engine Tuesday. Gearbox gone in that Toyota. NCT due on the Opel.  We know what that guy’s like, real particular. Real cheap too, finds something wrong, he won’t pay. Thinks we’re all animals here. Thinks we’re all dumb mechanics. Always on the phone, doing some job, some kinda Wall Street, clean shoes and that expensive suit and those rings. Educated type, uses big words, asks if we got a website, asks if we do e-mail. Ain’t no e-mail here. Had an e-mail once, lost the password, waste of time anyway. Gotta spray that transit, guy wants to sell it, make it look good, springs coming up through the boards, let’s nail them down, pass me the drill. Keep it going for a while, same with all these English cars. Salt on the road, see. Comes right up and causes rust and then they sell them over here when they’re about to fall apart. Let’s get a drink tonight.  I can’t drink tonight. Our hero’s working on something, some story, some play, some book. He’s thinking about a film, that song he heard the other day. He was changing the oil filter on the Insignia and it came on, moved him somehow, meant something. Would look good in a movie. That collection at home. DVD’s up to the ceiling. S’all Netflix now but the broadband around here is too bad. Good thing too, he thinks, more substance, less choice. You gotta watch what you got and watch it right and learn. Learn what a story is, learn how to add a song, learn how to write what people say. That girl with the  Ford Focus, smelled nice, in some college somewhere, studying something. Something to do with points, forms, applications and those damn e-mails. Maybe could ask her. Ask her how. Ask her where. Ask her when. Where does a guy start, telling that story, putting those thoughts in order. Breaking through.  Here’s the girl with the focus now, speak of the devil, she knows all about it, says there’s that big festival on in the city. here, you want a brochure, I got one last week. He takes it off her, brings it home. Reads it that night. Too many big words, too many big ideas. Culture, diversity, inclusion, stability of the organic societal perspective from an artistic standpoint. Man just wants to tell a story. Doesn’t want to send e-mails, drink the wine or wear the good coats. Just heard the song when doing the Insignia, can see the scene, just like the stack of DVD’s that all came before. Man’s got ideas but he’s tired now. Too tired for culture, and diversity and artistic standpoints. Needs to finish that Passat in the morning and the Peugeot’s back with a rattle in the bearing. And that guy with the suit, they say he’s some kind of director, on some board, film board maybe, what’s the film board, who knows, probably more inclusion, and e-mails and metaphors and big words like archetypal and fostering the rural imperative in the Post Celtic Tiger era. Here, pass the WD40, there’s a squeak in the window, Almera nice car. Doesn’t let you down. Japanese. Great culture there I bet. Supposed to check out that festival tonight, what’s the point, won’t fit in. Can’t understand a damn thing they got going on. Let’s get that drink instead. Six cans in Tesco and a binge of Scorsese.

 

Mick.

 

Fisherman’s Blues (Paperback)

Fisherman’s Blues is the hilarious new novel from Mick Donnellan.Dark and audacious, written in a distinct West of Ireland vernacular, it covers a myriad of genres from Crime Noir to comedy and an odd bit of religion. Fresh in its language, vivid in its descriptions, the book sings with the signature style of all Donnellan’s previous work, and a bit more. Delving into the lives of drinkers, lovers, thieves and scam artists, the story weaves a web of intrigue and curiosity that ends with an unforgettable bang. Not without its poignant moments, the plot hinges on the chaotic consequences of three unlikely comrade’s attempts to save their lost relationships, while unintentionally ruining the plans of a rising criminal’s efforts to take over the city. The question is: Can they succeed? And if they don’t, what then? And where have the women really gone?

€9.99

Mick Donnellan’s new Writing Course begins Tuesday 24th – 7.30pm @ AIT Athlone.

Sign up to Mick Donnellan’s New Creative Writing Course

@

 Athlone Institute of Technology.  

Tuesday September 24th

7.30 – 9.30pm

Duration 10 weeks

Cost: €180

Contact:

Life Long Learning Department at AIT:

(0906) 471829

Mobile: (087) 9422942.

E-Mail:mickdonnellan@hotmail.com

**Limited Places. Early Booking Strongly Advised.**

About the Course:

Mick Donnellan’s new Creative Writing Course opens this September 24th at the AIT Athlone. Building on the creative momentum gathered in recent classes, the course will concentrate on Fiction, Poetry, Non-Fiction and Publishing. 

Each student will get a chance to work on a creative project of their choice and use the class as a safe environment to get feedback, ask questions, and learn new techniques and approaches to their craft.

The Fiction Module will explore the art of the Short Story, different genres of the modern novel as well as how to plot and develop your story or book. This will be an incisive and educational exploration of the writing process and will enlighten students in ways that help them make substantial leaps forward in their creative careers.

The Poetry Module will examine Poets past and present as well as dive into the poetic mind and process. We will pull back the veil on conventional poetry and examine the difference between sincere verse and commercial rhyme. Aspiring poets will share work and get constructive feedback on their voice, themes and style.

Non-Fiction will cover a myriad of writing styles such as Biography, Memoir, Journalism, Review, Writing Features and Online Media. Students often find this aspect of the course the most educational and discover talents they never knew they had. For instance, Fiction writers often find they are better at Memoir and poets find passion for Blogging or Journalism.  Some Short Story writers have found they prefer writing Biography. This module will help students realise their full potential and ensure they are not locked  into one specific style or type of writing.

Publishing: We will go through the entire publishing process from editing, to format, designing the cover, marketing and getting work published.  This will be an insightful and exciting process for everyone involved. Each student come away with a keen knowledge of the Publishing Industry and will know how and where to send their work when they feel it is ready.

Course Intended for:

This course is ideal for writers at all levels of their career. It suits beginners and those who need a channel to express themselves creatively. No experience is required as the course will cover the basics of writing and gradually move through the different stages towards publishing success. It will be an enjoyable, stress free course with opportunity to be published at the end. It will also help those writers working in isolation and looking for a constructive environment to share and develop their work.

*The course will differ in content from previous courses so don’t worry if you have taken Mick’s course before.*

Background of the course:

The Writing Class began in September 2017 and has since gone from strength to strength. Taught and co-ordinated by Mick Donnellan, with the help of the Lifelong Learning Department at AIT, the course has seen an exponential rise in demand coupled with a series of exciting successes. To date, three students have had books published and others have gone on to be accepted to prestigious writing programmes such as the Masters in Trinity and NUI Galway. Most recently, Aiden Shorthall shot to prominence with his gripping memoir: The Tree That Fell In Winter. He cites the writing course as a crucial instrument on his road to success.

The course covers an array of genres such as Fiction, Playwrighting, Journalism, Screenwriting, Poetry and the Publishing industry. The aim is to determine the best voice for each student/writer that enrols. Writers often come to the class believing they are Novelists and leave as Poets. Or start out thinking they want to be a Journalist only to discover they’re more of a Playwright. By covering each topic, we find the approach that best suits each student and allows  them the creative flexibility to explore their writing and reach their full potential.

Last semester, the class produced a collection of work titledTales from the Heart.  The contributors came from varied backgrounds and professions and provided a unique and creative insight with their stories and poetry. Hailing fr​om Athlone and the surrounding towns of the midlands, each student drew deep to put their life experience on paper. While some had experience in the creative industry, the majority of the writers were making their publishing debut here in exemplary style. 

The idea behind the publication was to take writers to the next step. They started the class with the imagination and moved to the written word but there was always a question of how to migrate these stories and ideas to the published form. Tales from the Heart was the perfect opportunity to make that happen. 

After ten weeks of teaching, experimenting with form and style, and developing each entry to perfection – we eventually had the finished product. Every writer  excelled themselves to push their imagination to the limit and beyond and they now have the experience and confidence to push forward into a rich and rewarding career in the writing industry. The collection was launched at the AIT in April 2019 by Mary O’Rourke and was recognised as a publishing success. You can read more about Tales from the Heart on www.mickdonnellan.com



About Mick
Mick completed the MA in Writing at NUIG in 2004. Since then he has worked as a novelist, journalist, travel writer, teacher and Playwright. He completed his first novel, El Niño, in 2005 and immediately secured a literary agent. He left Ireland soon after and went on to live in Spain, Australia and Canada. While traveling he worked as a travel writer and Journalist and co-founded the Arts Paper – Urban Pie – in Vancouver. Upon returning to Ireland he went on to work with Druid (2009) and RTE (2010).

More recently, he established his own theatre company, Truman Town Theatre. All Truman Town Plays are written, directed, and produced by Mick. The company exploded on to the theatrical circuit in 2011 with their hit Play – Sunday Morning Coming Down. Following a national tour, they went on to produce (and tour) two more hugely successful Plays Shortcut to Hallelujah and Gun Metal Grey. These dramas eventually became known as the “Ballinrobe Trilogy”. More recently, the company toured a fourth Play Velvet Revolution and in 2014, Radio Luxembourg, his fifth Play, was bought by a London Film Company (Dixon/Baxi/Evans) and has been adapted for the screen.

The title for the movie version is “Tiger Raid”. Starring Brian Gleeson, Damian Molony and Sofia Boutella, it had its world premiere at the Tribeca film festival (2016) and was also seen at Cannes and Edinburgh and the Irish Premiere was screened at the Galway Film Fleadh.

El Niño is now published and Mick is currently in negotiations to sell the screen rights. Between that, he teaches writing while promoting his second novel “Fisherman’s Blues” and keeping Truman Town on the go.

Most of 2018 has been working on the exciting screen adaptation of “Shortcut to Hallelujah” with Florence Films. Hot off the press, the screenplay is titled “Sam” and is based around the gypsy curse supposedly set on the Mayo Football team as they returned home as All Ireland Champions in 1951. “Sam” is set in the present day and deals with themes of Mayo life and the hope of bringing the Sam Maguire home. Drenched in Irish lyricism and modern day dark humour, the script has been been met with keen interest by film producers and actors throughout the industry.

Mick’s third novel Mokusatsu – a crime novel set between Galway and Athlone – was published in May 2019.

See more on www.mickdonnellan.com

Mick.

Mokusatsu – A Novel by Mick Donnellan.

(Includes Worldwide Delivery and Postage) Charlie’s out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the events of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm. Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him. And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better? At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.

€10.00

Tales from the Heart – New Writing from Athlone Institute of Technology.

Buy “Tales from the Heart” here and have it delivered in Paperback Directly to your Door! * Tales from the Heart is a recent publication from the AIT Writing Class, launched by Mary O’Rourke in early April of this year. Here you will find a striking array of Prose, Non-Fiction and Poetry that can have you laughing out loud in one story and bringing a tear to the eye in the next. The prose is always lyrical, the poetry always profound and the true stories are drenched in observational brilliance. From interviews with Maeve Binchy to hard boiled Noir and beautiful memoir, this is a mouth watering collection that will be devoured by readers from all walks of life. The Writers The contributors come from varied backgrounds and professions and provide a unique and creative insight with their stories and poetry. Hailing fr​om Athlone and the surrounding towns of The Midlands, each student has drawn deep to put their life experience on paper. While some have experience in the creative industry, the majority of the writers are making their publishing debut here in exemplary style. The idea behind the publication is to take writers to the next step. They started the class with the imagination and moved to the written word but there was always a question of how to migrate these stories and ideas to the published form. Tales from the Heart was the perfect opportunity to make that happen. After ten weeks of teaching, experimenting with form and style, and developing each entry to perfection – we now have the finished product. Read more on http://www.mickdonnellan.com

€10.00

Cloony The Clown.

Cloony The Clown 

I’ll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown
Who worked in a circus that came through town. His shoes were too big and his hat was too small, But he just wasn’t, just wasn’t funny at all.
He had a trombone to play loud silly tunes,
He had a green dog and a thousand balloons.
He was floppy and sloppy and skinny and tall, But he just wasn’t, just wasn’t funny at all.
And every time he did a trick,
Everyone felt a little sick.
And every time he told a joke,
Folks sighed as if their hearts were broke.
And every time he lost a shoe,
Everyone looked awfully blue.
And every time he stood on his head,
Everyone screamed, “Go back to bed!”
And every time he made a leap,
Everybody fell asleep.
And every time he ate his tie,
Everyone began to cry.
And Cloony could not make any money
Simply because he was not funny.
One day he said, “I’ll tell this town
How it feels to be an unfunny clown.”
And he told them all why he looked so sad,
And he told them all why he felt so bad.
He told of Pain and Rain and Cold,
He told of Darkness in his soul,
And after he finished his tale of woe,
Did everyone cry? Oh no, no, no,
They laughed until they shook the trees
With “Hah-Hah-Hahs” and “Hee-Hee-Hees.” They laughed with howls and yowls and shrieks, They laughed all day, they laughed all week, They laughed until they had a fit,
They laughed until their jackets split.
The laughter spread for miles around 

To every city, every town,
Over mountains, ‘cross the sea,
From Saint Tropez to Mun San Nee.
And soon the whole world rang with laughter, Lasting till forever after,
While Cloony stood in the circus tent,
With his head drooped low and his shoulders bent. And he said,”THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT –
I’M FUNNY JUST BY ACCIDENT.”
And while the world laughed outside.
Cloony the Clown sat down and cried. 

Shel Silverstein

*

Fisherman’s Blues (Paperback)

Fisherman’s Blues is the hilarious new novel from Mick Donnellan.Dark and audacious, written in a distinct West of Ireland vernacular, it covers a myriad of genres from Crime Noir to comedy and an odd bit of religion. Fresh in its language, vivid in its descriptions, the book sings with the signature style of all Donnellan’s previous work, and a bit more. Delving into the lives of drinkers, lovers, thieves and scam artists, the story weaves a web of intrigue and curiosity that ends with an unforgettable bang. Not without its poignant moments, the plot hinges on the chaotic consequences of three unlikely comrade’s attempts to save their lost relationships, while unintentionally ruining the plans of a rising criminal’s efforts to take over the city. The question is: Can they succeed? And if they don’t, what then? And where have the women really gone?

€9.99

Notes on Reamonn: Supergirl.

I was trying to write a bit when she walked in. It was around 3pm. Usually she’s drunk by now. Buys a bottle of Vodka at 10am every morning and has it mostly drank by the afternoon. Normally it’s in a flask and she carries it around and drinks it casually as the hours pass. She wants to know what the music is, says it sounds familiar, she used to listen to it in Poland before she moved over.

I told her it was Reamonn. She said she used to drink a lot in Poland. Party girl. Young. Finding herself. Strobe lights in dark discos, dance beats and boys. Her new fella wanted to move to Ireland. Big money, better life. She could speak good English and they liked to drink in Ireland too.

So they packed up, moved over. Had two kids. Bought a house. She had a job for a while but lost it. It was everyone’s fault. The boss, the manager, the conditions, the hours, the pay. She was better than that, didn’t need it, there’s better things out there.

She drank some more,  said: ‘I love that song.’

‘Supergirl?’

‘Yeah. We used to listen to it at home all the time.’

‘Before you moved over?’

‘Before….everything.’

She danced a bit, put up a hand to the beats. Took a drink, said: ‘Sure you don’t want some?’

She feels the excitement, song always gets her. Brings her back, back to a place before experience and knowledge, a careless place where she didn’t have to think.  She can’t remember when she decided she was a Supergirl. Maybe it was when she had her first kid, or second, or when she got married. Most mornings now she gets the flask and fills it  and goes for a walk. Walk where, who cares. The kids are gone too. Husband took them. She had an apartment for a while, no rent paid. That’s gone aswell. Now she lives with my neighbour and makes him dinner every evening and he gives her some money for the off licence. Lately he’s getting annoyed because the dinner does be burnt and he’s noticing things going missing around the house. First it was a phone and she blamed the guy up the road. Then a jar of change and it was the fault of the woman that visited an hour before. Then some real money from a wallet and maybe it was a break in, might be time to call the guards. He’s also the kind of the man to keep a suitcase of cash under the bed. He went looking for it yesterday to buy a car and sure most of it was gone. Had vanished. Disappeared.

So she’s giving him some space and hanging out here, listening to Supergirl.  And where did I get the computer, it’s really nice. And do I like this town? Was I ever in Poland? It’s good, but Ireland is better. Much better. She wants to see her kids at the weekend but the husband won’t let her. Won’t answer the phone. Last time she got too drunk and didn’t show up and there’s been no word since. But she has a plan. There’s going to be a court day soon, solicitors, a real showdown, she’s got it all planned as she dances, transformed back to the careless place, invincible. Supergirl.

*

 

Novel – El Niño (in Paperback).

El Niño is the exciting debut novel from Mayo man, Mick Donnellan. Slick, stylish and always entertaining, the story is a rollercoaster of drama and tension that hasn’t been seen in Irish fiction for a very long time. Charlie is our protagonist, the pick pocket that steals El Nino’s wallet and then falls in love with her. She’s the wild femme fatale, beautiful; enigmatic and seductive. She rocks Charlie’s world with her smoky wiles and drinking ways and her tough girl ideals. This is Noir at its best. Dark and edgy with crisp fresh dialogue and a plot that engages the reader from the first line and keeps them up all night – right through to it’s powerful finish.

€10.00

Meeting the sniper.

The night came, over the hills; sun fell down, a ball of red fire, retreating, like a flame slowly. Humidity stayed. We got to Lawrence, Kansas. I stood outside and listened to Josh Ritter. The moon bright, still trees, people smoking cigarettes. Guy asks me for a light. Told him I had none. He got one off the ticket guy. We got talking. He was tall. Blonde. Baby-faced. Agile. Where ya goin, what ya doin, where ya from, nice train, quiet night.

    ‘I’m Mick.’

    ‘I’m Mike, it’s really Mikhail cos I have Russian origins.’

    ‘I’m really Michéal cos it’s Irish for Michael.’

‘Cool. Vegas, huh?’

    ‘Yeah. You?’

    ‘I gotta report for duty in the morning.’

    ‘Duty?’

    ‘I’m in The Marines.’

    ‘Really?’

    ‘Yeah. I got a five man squadron and we’re getting deployed next week.’

    ‘Iraq?

    ‘Afghanistan.’

    ‘I heard it’s getting messy over there.’

  Drag, smoke in the night, hovers in the streetlight. ‘It was never any other way, man.’

    ‘And what do you do?’

‘Reconaisance.’

    ‘Gathering information?’

    ‘Kind of….I got my crew and we watch out for the guys on the ground.’

   ‘Making sure they know what they’re getting into?’

    ‘Yeah, I’m a sniper.’

    ‘Jesus.’

    ‘We protect.’

    ‘How does that feel?’

    ‘It’s my first mission.’

    ‘Nervous?’

    ‘I got a job to do, that’s it.’

    ‘Did you always want to be….’

    ‘I was recruited cos I can speak Russian and I’m trained in multiple marital arts.’

    The whistle goes and we get back inside. 

He went one way. 

I went the other. 

The windows were black with night. Ocean blue seats and folks asleep. Passed  some time watching laptop films and thinking about Vegas and war. Drank red wine and the Amish guy in the seat ahead looked over occasionally and smiled. Him and his red cheeks and his side-burns. Wasn’t sure what a conversation might involve. Religion, maybe. Love thy neighbour. That kinda thing. Sure what do I know?

Train rhythms beat on quiet tracks, like wheels on an office chair going over a plush carpet. 

We got to another small town, can’t remember the name. There was a platform with a lonely family standing in the smoky light.

 Mikhail came back out for another smoke and we picked up where we left off.

    ‘So, I report at 7. Hope my guys are all there and then we ship out in a few days. When we’re in action, we’re trained to never move. Go to the toilet. Nothing. We have to sit still for hours. Even days.’

    ‘Why?’

    ‘You can’t give your position away. Even the slightest move and you’re gone.’

    ‘How long you out there for?’

    ‘Depends. Some tours are six months. Others twelve and eighteen.’

    ‘And you have a choice?’

    ‘I don’t care. I’m staying out there as long as I can. I want to protect my country, man. Someone has to. And if I don’t, those motherfuckers are gonna come and shoot me, and my family, and whoever else they can kill.’

    ‘What are the civilian casualties like?’

    ‘I’ll put it like this. The other week, right, a good friend of mine, good guy, fuckin good soldier. He’s out there, and he’s doing his job, and he’s trying to help the villagers fight these Taliban assholes, cos those guys are bad, right?’

    ‘Right.’

    ‘So a seven year old girl comes up to him saying: ‘…hey mister, hey mister…’ Something like that. And she’s sweet and she’s holding a doll and he wants to be kind cos she’s a kid and these are things she’s gonna remember when she gets older, right? Hearts and minds.’

    ‘Yeah.’

    ‘So she hands him the doll and he takes it and the fuckin thing explodes and kills the two of them.’

    He takes in some smoke. ‘Crazy, right?’

    ‘Fuck.’

    ‘So that’s what we’re up against. Some of these guys don’t give a fuck, at least we have standards. I love my country. I’ll die to protect it, but I won’t kill an eight year girl in the process. That’s the difference between us and them. That’s what people don’t understand.’

    ‘What age are you, Mikhail?’

    Stubs out his cigarette. ‘I’m just gone twenty-five.’

    ‘Twenty-five.’

    ‘Yeah, it’s hard on my girlfriend, but she said she’ll wait. Whatever it takes. Ya know?’

    Whistle. Back on board please. 

The night went by and there was a queue as the train slowed and the doors opened on the final stop and I saw Mikhail there with his bags packed, ready to go. He looked around, spotted me and said: ‘Hey, Mick, good luck in Vegas.’

And he was gone.

 

Mick.

 

Novel – El Niño (in Paperback).

El Niño is the exciting debut novel from Mayo man, Mick Donnellan. Slick, stylish and always entertaining, the story is a rollercoaster of drama and tension that hasn’t been seen in Irish fiction for a very long time. Charlie is our protagonist, the pick pocket that steals El Nino’s wallet and then falls in love with her. She’s the wild femme fatale, beautiful; enigmatic and seductive. She rocks Charlie’s world with her smoky wiles and drinking ways and her tough girl ideals. This is Noir at its best. Dark and edgy with crisp fresh dialogue and a plot that engages the reader from the first line and keeps them up all night – right through to it’s powerful finish.

€10.00

  

Mokusatsu – A Novel by Mick Donnellan.

(Includes Worldwide Delivery and Postage) Charlie’s out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the events of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm. Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him. And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better? At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.

€10.00

Hollywood to Vancouver

The hostel was on Crenshaw Boulevard. We had to go through Hollywood to get there. So we get off the train and me and old Jane are there with a world of bags and a continent of fatigue and we see all these film rolls on the walls. Jane knows what they are cos she works in TV and tells me they’re really cool and rare and then we get an escalator passed a pillar with trees painted on the side. And everything’s kinda bright yellow and there’s a static fuzz in the air like nothing’s exactly real and if you fell too hard against a wall you’d go right through it and into some dark black abyss the other side of nowhere. So we take these stairs at last and exit onto Hollywood and Vine and there’s an old tramp lady there and she’s in tattered rags and her hair’s brown and her teeth are nearly gone and she’s spinning round and round and round and she’s screaming: ‘I’m fuckin famous, you motherfucker! I’m famous man! Look at me bitch! Look at me, I’m fuckin fay-muss!….agagahahahah….!’ and then she stops and starts jumping up and down and screaming at no one at all and on the ground are all the stars of famous people and ahead are theatres and themed restaurants, and we ask a guy bout where we’re staying, and he tells us and we end up getting a taxi.

Night falls asunder and the great star blasts the world awake and we get on to Hollywood and Vine again the next day. There’s a guy dressed as Spiderman hanging off the wall and up the road there’s Heath Ledger’s Joker walking around with a knife and Marilyn Monroe is having a chat with Superman by the ‘Crossway.’ We met Chucky from Child’s Play outside the Dragon Theatre, a famous place for Premieres, and we took a picture and he asked me for a tip in the kindest way possible. Wasn’t too long before we got roped into a tour, everyone thinking we’re on honeymoon and tryna get our money. And we get into this small bus with a black lady driving and another couple that say they’re from New York but they’ve got West Coast skin and style and sunglasses. Blonde guy. Thin girl. Arms across the rest and taking in the passing breeze. A smell of summer trees. The lady driving points out houses. George Clooney lived there. That’s where Michael Jackson lived with the flowers outside. Here they filmed the Fresh Prince of Bel Air and Paris Hilton is building a new house here.

Thin streets. Intense heat. Bottles of water. The smell of sun cream. A megaphone on top of our little bus explaining who the people in the passing gardens are, how much their houses cost and what they do for a living. And the world is a pyramid with a great snake wrapped around it and the head is here, the venom of wealth, and below the throng is obscured in a shadow of arrogance and ignorance and something like an assumed entitlement, and the mob clamours to reach this dizzy height, looks up in admiration and envy, desperation and pain, wants to climb this slimy back and achieve all that these here water sprinklers have to offer, and the yellow Porsches, and the million dollar porches and the view, such views, isn’t the view fantastic, wouldn’t you like to live here, wouldn’t it be great, so nice to dream about tennis courts and afternoon Bacardi and tanned legs and white clothes and leather couches and cool pools and champagne and strawberries and green hills and security cameras and big iron gates and body guards and stalkers and freaks and paparazzi and sick people just lost, lost, and to dream of no more bills or crying in the shower and how it’s possible here to be a beautiful God, God himself, with Mexican maids and intravenous mocha and a phone full of famous numbers, gathered at parties where cocaine went around on a ten thousand dollar velvet cushion and we could take as much as we like cos we’re immortal, after all, ain’t that my picture on the wall, wasn’t that my voice on the radio, hey, Joe, what now, we’ve done it all, the world is watching, we’re too high up and no way back down, what’s outside, I can’t go out there, stay here and hide and pass the line, it’s stronger than last time, same guy? No different guy, new, last guy died, fell from a roof, oh shit, gimme another hit, put on some tunes, I want to act, I want to sing, I’m bored, I wanna feel something, you wanna hooker? I want a woman. There ain’t no women here, Joe, you know that, just actors, man, what time is it….

The next day. Again these bags, we’re like a great rumbling herd hurtling towards Vancouver. And the heat lays it on hard, and we got the Amtrak off Crenshaw, and I spent most of the time writing, and sitting opposite a crew that were on their way to the Burning Man festival. And did we want to go? The tickets were over 300 hundred dollars and it was eight days in the desert, and you needed so much water, food, clothes etc. They were drinkin Vodka and Red Bull and it was noon, and they were excited, and we had another twenty two hours to go. The train rides on, slow, incremental, calm accentuated. A guy came and sat opposite me. Kind old man. He looked out the window. Looked at me. Looked back. He seemed anxious and we said nothing for a while and then I closed the lid and I said hey, and he said hey. And I reminded him of his son, and his son had a big job, and was married, and was Ireland a nice place, and did it rain much, and what will we do in Vancouver, and we should stop at Portland because it’s beautiful. It went on like that, and he came to life, and the colour came back in his cheeks, and he thanked me for talking to him, and he left and I got the feeling that he’d needed that chat, like he woke up and looked over the California plains and saw before him the bulk of his life that had passed, and felt the wheels pull him toward the final chapters, and he was scared, but when he got to talk and discuss all that he was proud of he didn’t feel that bad, and was happy to and look out the window for another while and smile, maybe cry, maybe think, or just sleep and dream with the lullaby of motion.

And it wasn’t long before we saw the fire, and there was so much smoke it blocked out the sun, and all The Burning Man kids called it Awesome and Amazing and Beautiful and a mad scatter of tourists came from nowhere to take pictures and a couple of old men that musta been local compared it to previous fires. The flames ate the scrub and the brush and all that it could devour and the plumes got so thick that it was like a slow motion mushroom cloud, and it was such nature, such consumption, so toxic and inexorable, and then we passed on through and drank the cold beer, and The Burning Man kids were drunk except one guy that wanted to tell about his past, and no one really wanted to hear, but he told it anyway, spiced it up with words like Lawyer and AK47, and Doing Time, and I got wondering why he’s so damn proud of himself, and his sour coke deals, and doesn’t everyone really live in their own drama, their version of the world, listening to the voice-over of the movie in their heads, and it began to get dark and the road is a pedal and the mind is a wheel and we keep on spinning and spinning and spinning.

Mick.

Mokusatsu – A Novel by Mick Donnellan.

(Includes Worldwide Delivery and Postage) Charlie’s out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the events of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm. Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him. And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better? At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.

€10.00

Mokusatsu now available Worldwide in Paperback.

Mokusatsu

 

A

New Novel 

 

by 

 Mick Donnellan

 

Now available in Paperback. 

 

**Price €10** 

(Includes Postage and Worldwide Delivery. )**

 

Mokusatsu – A Novel by Mick Donnellan.

(Includes Worldwide Delivery and Postage) Charlie’s out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the events of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm. Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him. And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better? At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.

€10.00

 
 
 

Read more on www.mickdonnellan.com

 

 

Liz Parsons shares thoughts on Mokusatsu…

Hi Mick, I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed Mokusatsu. It’s a really gripping read. Very dark, but also really funny! The Ballinrobe ATM raid had me in stitches! Your powers of description are amazing. In just a few words you give a full sense of what a place looks like, smells like and feels like. I hope we get to read more about Charlie. He could really do with rehab! Anyway, thank you for writing such an enjoyable book. See you soon, best wishes, Liz….

 

*

 

Mokusatsu – A Novel by Mick Donnellan.

(Includes Worldwide Delivery and Postage) Charlie’s out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the events of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm. Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him. And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better? At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.

€10.00

Mayo County Library to Stock Mokusatsu at all venues.

 

Mayo Country Library have requested an order of Mick Donnellan’s third novel – “Mokusatsu” to be stocked at all libraries around the county.

It will be widely available there in the coming weeks. Please ask your local librarian for an update if looking to borrow.

Special thanks to Mary Farragher and all involved.

You can read more about Mokusatsu below:

Mick.

 

 

Mokusatsu – A Novel by Mick Donnellan.

(Includes Worldwide Delivery and Postage) Charlie’s out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the events of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm. Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him. And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better? At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.

€10.00

Athlone Launch of Mick Donnellan’s New Novel “Mokusatsu” May 5th @ Athlone Castle.

You are invited to the launch of:

“Mokusatsu”

 
A new novel
from 
Mick Donnellan. 
May 5th @ Athlone Castle. 
Time: 2pm. 
 

*As Part of the –Poetry in the Park -Monthly Meeting.

 
Media Contact: Mick Donnellan
 
E-mail: mickdonnellan@hotmail.com
 
Tel: (087) 9422942
 
 
 
 

About

Mokusatsu is the long awaited sequel to Novelist Mick Donnellan’s first book El Niño. Despite the Japanese name, Mokusatsu is set in Ireland – and a significant part of the story is set in Athlone. Charlie, the protagonist, is out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the death of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm.

Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him.

And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better?

At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.

Poetry in the Park

Poetry in the Park is a community event, open to all ages and nationalities. It is held on the first Sunday of every month at 2pm. This month’s event will take place in Athlone Castle and will feature many local writers and poets. As usual, all writers present will have a chance to showcase their work and read from the latest volume of the highly regarded Poetry in the Park Publication. The group have been kind enough to offer Mick Donnellan the opportunity to launch Mokusatsu on the day. It also promises to be a very exciting and creative time around Athlone as the All Ireland Drama Festival will be in full swing. All are welcome and urged to attend and the invite is open to all artists, families and anyone else looking for day out with a cultural difference.

Mick Donnellan is from Ballinrobe, Co. Mayo. He has worked as a novelist, screenwriter and playwright for many years. He currently lives in Athlone, Co.Westmeath, where he teaches Creative Writing at the Athlone Institute of Technology. Mokusatsu is his third novel. You can read more about Mick on www.mickdonnellan.com.

 

 

 

Want Mokusatsu in Paperback delivered direct to your door? If so, click below.

 

 

Mokusatsu – A Novel by Mick Donnellan.

(Includes Worldwide Delivery and Postage) Charlie’s out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the events of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm. Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him. And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better? At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.

€10.00